


A Deer and a Butterfly Walk into a Bar...

by knaveofhearts (seatbeltdrivein)



Category: Naruto
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-04
Updated: 2010-05-04
Packaged: 2017-10-09 07:39:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seatbeltdrivein/pseuds/knaveofhearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Chouji wanted was an answer, and to be honest, one word would have sufficed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Deer and a Butterfly Walk into a Bar...

**Author's Note:**

> This was written just over a year ago, I think, and I found it on my hard drive and edited it up, but the thing is pretty damn depressing. Be forewarned.

"I figured it out!" Chouji lifted his head from the chemistry text—and the bag of chips—in front of him, eying his old friend cautiously.

 

"Figured _what_ out, Ino?"

 

Ino gave an impatient scoff, smacking Chouji in the arm in the same exact place she always did. He bruised easily, damnit! "I figured out where Shika-_kun_," she drew out the endearment mischievously, "does it. Where he picks up guys."

 

There was a long, painfully awkward silence before Chouji spoke. "Ino," he said, pausing for a moment, because what the Hell did she expect him to do? "I don't think we're both thinking what you're thinking. A little help here?"

 

She scoffed again, pushing her bangs out of her eyes. "Of course you aren't thinking what I'm thinking. It's far too brilliant to come from your mind."

 

Chouji might have winced if he wasn't so used to her blunt nature.

 

"Anyway," she continued, snapping up a potato chip and crunching it between her teeth, "I've figured out the perfect plan. You're going to go to the bar, pick him up—"

 

"_What_?"

 

"—and then spend the whole night showing him just why you're better than some random—"

 

"Ino, what the Hell? I'm not going to a bar to pick up my best friend!" Chouji was sure his eyes were bigger than the plates he ate his dinner off—which was pretty damn big—as he waved his hands, face red. "If he liked me—"

 

"Which he does!"

 

"—then he would tell me, and—"

 

"No he wouldn't!"

 

"—it's not really looking like he does, Ino!" The girl scowled at him, her face darkening as Chouji finished.

 

"Chouji?"

 

"Yes, Ino?" Sweat began building on his brow at the look of utter evil that crossed his old friend's face.

 

"Did it sound like I was giving you an option?"

 

Well, hell.

 

Roughly two hours later, Chouji was standing in Ino and Sakura's apartment, thanking every deity he'd ever heard of that at least the other girl wasn't there. He'd heard horror stories of the times Sakura had tried playing matchmaker.

 

"Ino, I really don't think this is a good idea," Chouji said for what had to be the thirtieth time, fidgeting nervously as she threw the clothes she'd commandeered from his closet on to her bed.

 

"Chouji, I really don't want to hear that again. I am so damn sick of seeing you moon over him. Don't you get it?" She threw a pair of khakis off the bed in disgust, "It's now or never. Eventually, Shikamaru's going to realize that there's more than just one-night stands. He'll move on and find someone, and it won't be you because you were too busy being scared." A polo shirt dropped on top of the discarded khakis, Ino's ponytail bobbing and flailing around as she spoke animatedly. "Do you really want that?"

 

_No_. "If he's happy…"

 

"That's not what I said. Do you really want that?"

 

"No," he finally admitted, toeing the ground and looking anywhere but at her. "I don't."

 

"Finally," she muttered, grabbing a pair of cargo pants and a tee shirt off the bed and chucking them at her large friend. "Now go get dressed. I have plans for you tonight."

 

Feeling more than a bit frightened by the manic glint in Ino's eyes, Chouji fled to the bathroom, slipping into the clothes and cringing at himself in the mirror. He looked like a football player that had gained about a hundred pounds and then tried to dress the same way that he always had.

 

"This is a bad idea," he mumbled to himself, stepping out of the small and extremely pink bathroom. "Ino, I don't think this looks very good. I—"

 

"Wow, Chouji, you look great!" Sakura smiled, shutting the door closed behind her. "Got a date?" She grinned, dropping an armful of medical texts onto the tiny kitchen table.

 

Before Chouji could even open his mouth through the shock, Ino beat him to it.

 

"Actually," she grinned, "he does. Doesn't he look great? I scoured his wardrobe to find that outfit. Boy needs a closet makeover, I think."

 

"Uh, I don't—"

 

"You think so?" Sakura gave him a critical look, and then nodded. "He looks great. Maybe you and I should help him out sometime?"

 

Ino snorted, "Only if I'm there, forehead. I'd hate for you to try and make him a Sasuke clone or something."

"Bitch, _please_—"

 

"Look at the time!" Chouji broke in, even more nervous than before, both of them standing there, staring at him as if he was their next pet project. "I should be going!"

 

"Oh, you're right!" Ino dug a hand into her pocket, pulling out a small blue card, and shoving it into Chouji's hand. "This is the address to the club. Don't get lost, and don't be late." She narrowed her eyes. "Got it, Chouji? This is your last chance. Don't waste it!"

 

"Yeah, Ino, I got it." He smiled awkwardly at the two girls, giving Ino a strained one-armed hug. "Thanks."

 

As he closed the door behind him, he could hear a faint shriek of 'I thought you were going to let me set them up, Ino-pig!'

 

_Fuckfuckfuck_.

 

It wasn't a long drive, about 15 minutes from their university and 20 minutes from Chouji's apartment. "I can do this. I can do this," he chanted to himself, slamming the car door behind him, turning to face the dank little building—the bar where the only person who'd ever stuck around and didn't care what he looked like or if he was smart was practically giving his ass away for free on a regular basis—and stopped dead.

 

"OhgodnoIcan't," he stammered out turning back to stare at the car door, hand gripping the handle. _I should just leave_, he thought, _tell Ino I didn't see him_. Maybe he could even—

 

His thoughts were broken as his cell phone began vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out and groaned loudly when he saw the text:

 

_Failure is not an option, Chouji~ Go get him!_

 

Shikamaru was right. Women _were_ troublesome.

 

Jamming the power button off, he slid it back into his pocket, shaking his head. There was no way out. He had to do it.

 

The inside of the bar was pretty much the same as the outside—a dark, shabby looking area. Only the inside had a pool table rather than a disgustingly overfilled garbage bin, a well-shaven bar tender rather than several suspicious looking women, and—most importantly—Shikamaru sitting at the bar, shoulders slumped like always, rather than the empty seat in his car.

 

Feeling more and more awkward, Chouji sat down next to his friend at the bar, ordering a beer—God knew he would need one—and giving the smaller man a nervous smile. "Hey, Shikamaru."

 

Shikamaru had never been a very expressive person. His face generally stuck at 'Jesus H. Christ, I am bored' and 'Jesus H. Christ I am bored and _you are a moron'_. The look of utter surprise, complete with a raised brow and mouth hanging open, was definitely something Chouji was not used to seeing on the other man's face.

 

"Why are you here, Chouji?" Shikamaru wasn't looking at him, his eyes more focused on the almost empty glass in hand.

 

"To see you," Chouji replied, taking the beer from the bartender with a nod and thanks. It seemed easy to say now, though he couldn't understand why. Shikamaru couldn't _not _know what he meant.

 

The other man hummed thoughtfully, tossing back the rest of his glass and setting it down on the counter. "Is that right? Ino sent you here, I bet. Did I miss her birthday or something?"

 

"Not that I know of," Chouji laughed nervously, shifting on the barstool and wondering why in the Hell the things had to be so small. "She did tell me where to find you though. I wanted to come." Sort of, anyway. "You, well, you know, I—" And his words just died on him. How was he supposed to say it? 'I love you' wouldn't faze Shikamaru. Nothing normal ever fazed his genius of a friend. The guy could overlook it, find a reason not to hear it, even before you could justify yourself.

 

"What? What do I know?" Shikamaru snorted, shaking his head. "Chouji, you know why I'm here."

 

Yeah, he knew. He hated it, but he knew. "Yeah." Taking the last swig of beer, he set it on the counter, shrugging. "Maybe, you know, that's…Maybe that's why I'm here."

 

"Ah." Shikamaru didn't say anything else, just raised his hand, signaling for the check. "We're together," he added.

 

"Y-you don't have to do—"

 

"Don't worry about it," Shikamaru muttered, laying some cash on the bar and sliding off the stool with much more ease than Chouji. "You can drive me home in return. I took a cab here."

 

"Uh, yeah. Okay," Chouji frowned, following the other out. What was going on? Shikamaru acted like he hadn't even heard what he'd said. "H-hey, Shika?" He had to try again.

 

"Mm?" He heard from the other side of the car.

 

"Well," Chouji unlocked the doors, watching Shikamaru get into the car from the other side, "I meant what I said. I mean," he was thankful it was dark outside. His face must have been bright red, "I came here for you."

 

"I know," Shikamaru said, buckling his seatbelt. "I heard you."

 

"And?" Chouji prompted.

 

"And you're driving me home." _Ouch_.

 

"Oh, right." Chouji shouldn't have been surprised. Just because they were friends and they both liked men didn't mean that they had to be together. Shikamaru could have anyone. And he, apparently, wasn't part of that anyone.

 

It wasn't until he pulled up at Shikamaru's apartment complex and watched the other man get out that he realized that maybe, just maybe, there were times when _he_ was the one that talked himself out of things before giving others a chance to explain.

 

But mostly it was after Shikamaru began knocking on his car window and scowling when Chouji put the car back into drive.

 

"Eh? Shika—"

 

"Where the hell are you going? I thought you came to see me."

 

Oh. Oh, wow.

 

"Well, yeah," Chouji said sheepishly, putting the car into park and getting out. "B-but I thought you wanted me to leave?"

 

Shikamaru just sighed, spitting out a 'troublesome' before heading towards his apartment. "C'mon, Chouji."

 

Chouji, to put it mildly, was confused. So, Shikamaru wanted him to stay the night? This all seemed a bit wrong to the larger man, following his friend into the apartment and giving him his jacket as he toed out of his sandals.

 

"Are you thirsty?"

 

"No, I'm good." He was nervous. What was happening?

 

"So you're hungry, then. I have some chips from the last time—"

 

"What are we doing?"

 

Shikamaru folded their jackets, laying them across the couch. "Not much, as of now. Tell me what you're expecting."

"I don't really know what to expect," Chouji admitted, standing in the entryway and shifting nervously. "What should I—"

 

"You know what I go to that bar for. You said so yourself."

 

"Well, yes—"

 

"I brought you home with me."

 

"Ah, yeah, you did, I gue—"

 

"I picked you up."

 

Chouji was a bit stunned. This was all a bit backwards. "No, I picked _you_ up!"

 

Shikamaru was not amused. "I picked you up. I brought you home. I've been drinking for," he gave the clock a glance: 8:00 pm, "about three hours. What are you expecting?"

 

Well, at least he knew what was going through Shikamaru's head now.

 

"I don't want to be picked up." He had to be firm with this, had to be. "I'm not someone who goes to bars for—for that." He shifted again, glancing up at his friend's face, waiting for some understanding to flash across those dark eyes. "I went there for _you_."

 

Head cocked to the side and hands on his hips, Shikamaru strolled up to Chouji, leaning forward, the heavy smell of whiskey pushing against the bigger man's face. "And now you're here. For _me_." The smaller man relaxed his body, sliding long, tanned arms around Chouji's neck, his nose nudging the others. "Aren't you?"

 

"W-well, yes, I mean—" Chouji could barely stammer out half a sentence before Shikamaru cut him off, soft lips brushing over his own.

 

"Come on."

 

There was no asking, no 'please' or 'don't you want to'. Chouji followed him without hesitating, letting the other man pull him into the bedroom and claw off his clothes, pressing inebriated kisses over his face, neck.

 

He wasn't sure if this was what Ino meant by 'go get him', but he was definitely getting something tonight.

 

He just hoped it was worth it the next morning.

 

"Chouji," Shikamaru husked, pushing him to sit on the edge of the bed, "relax."

 

"Yeah, su—_Ngh_!" Chouji's eyes rolled back into his head, the room fading from existence, as Shikamaru swallowed him whole, his throat rubbing against every inch of his swollen cock.

 

Chouji hadn't even thought that it would be possible to deep throat him—he wasn't exactly small—but apparently, practice helped.

 

But he wasn't about to start thinking about that at a time like this.

 

"F-fuck," he managed to get his mouth to work for about five seconds before collapsing back into primitive grunts, his hands gripping the other man's dark hair, his fingers loosening and clenching sporadically, afraid to hurt his friend.

 

Shikamaru pulled off, his lips stretching along a thick strand of something, and sat back on his knees, the bulge under his boxers obscenely obvious.

 

"Relax," he said softly, his voice hoarse.  "Or it won't be good."

Of course. Of course, that would be his reason. But it wasn't like Chouji would have known. He'd been with one girl back when he was 19, and after two years, he wasn't all that confidant. "I—"

 

"_Relax_," Shikamaru began standing, pushing him back on to the bed, motioning for him to shift up toward the bedpost.

 

"Yeah, all right," he breathed out, watching Shikamaru slip off the boxers that he'd somehow managed to keep on, tossing them off the bed and _fuck, his body was so perfect_—

 

"There's lube in the drawer," Shikamaru murmured, cocking his head toward it. "Get it for me." He crawled over Chouji's prone body, knees on either side of his hips as he waited, hand outstretched. Chouji slid open the drawer and pretended he didn't see the dildo or the condoms or the empty wrappers and lube bottles and just grabbed the one that wasn't, handing it back.

 

"Thanks," Shikamaru said without looking at him, squirting it into one hand and dropping the bottle of the side of the bed, steadying himself with one hand on the broad shoulders  in front of him, the other, slicker hand stretching behind him, sliding down. Chouji knew exactly where it was going, inhaling sharply at the same time as Shikamaru, their pants seemingly equal as the smaller of the two slid two fingers in at once, scissoring them wide before immediately sliding in a third. Dark eyes slid up, meeting the gaze up until he couldn't focus, choosing instead to slam his fingers into his prostate, groaning while Chouji just watched, amazed and disturbed at seeing this side of the boy he'd known since forever and a day.

 

"Ready," Shikamaru breathed out finally, hand gripping the shoulder harder as he aligned himself, giving Chouji quick glances as he slid down onto his cock, breathing hard. "_Fuuuuuuuck_," he panted, drilling himself all the way down.

 

Chouji could hardly breathe, hardly _see_, as Shikamaru rode him, his knees and hips and _oh god_ it was all so much.

 

The build up felt different from normal, the intense pleasure of being inside Shikamaru tainted by the heavy atmosphere and the fear of not knowing how it would end.

 

But it did, too soon for his liking.

 

His eyes slid shut, head thrown back, mouth open as he came hard, Shikamaru's hips rolling him through it.

 

It was just too damn soon.

 

*

 

Chouji didn't remember falling asleep, didn't remember about when Shikamaru had smiled at him, covered in come, and lay down with him, pressing an 'I love you' between their lips like a promise.

 

Instead, Chouji woke up to a heavy heart and an empty bed.

 

Rolling over with a groan, his hand hit Shikamaru's pillow, groping at the empty place. "Shikamaru?" He called out, voice fogged over with sleep.

 

No answer.

 

He sat up, untangling himself from the sheets, when something caught his eye. A note stuck to the bedside table with a key taped next to it.

 

_Chouji—_

_Lock the door behind you._

It hurt more to know that he wasn't wanted than when it was up in the air.

 

He didn't stare at the note for a long time, no matter how much he wanted. Instead, he slid out of the bed and into his clothes, pocketing it, and left the apartment. He drove home.

 

It definitely hurt more. He'd have to discourage Ino from playing matchmaker from now on.


End file.
